


Misinformation

by stupidinspaces



Series: Things That Didn’t Happen to Simon Spier [1]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidinspaces/pseuds/stupidinspaces
Summary: In which Martin really is the epitome of evil...





	Misinformation

**Author's Note:**

> In the book:  
> \- Bram’s email “bluegreen118” is a reference to his full name and birthday.  
> \- Martin never posted screenshots of Simon and Blue’s emails. Here, he goes even further than in the movie, however.

“No fucking way,” I say, and repeat it again for good measure. Because there really is no fucking way in hell Martin is Blue. 

“I’m so sorry, Simon, I was having an identity crisis after my brother came out, I-I…”

The seatbelt around my waist feels suffocating now, I rip it off and get to my feet, the metals of the ferriswheel squeaking in protest. “You are nothing like Blue, Martin. You can’t be him.”

“I made up having a new baby fetus sibling and being an only child. My dad lives in Atlanta… But everything else is true, I love comic books, I love the lights at homecoming? My mom is an epidemiologist.” 

I can’t stomach listening to any more, but Martin keeps babbling, looking at me with a pleading expression, but the one thing he doesn’t say is the punchline. 

My brain is operating a mile a minute. And I’m trying as hard as I can to use more than basic Simon logic, because there cannot possibly be a way…

But all the information he just gave are more recent than the emails he screenshotted from the start of the school year.

And it’s there, under a flickering lamp post that the inconceivable becomes conceivable. 

“You’re not gay…” I say, and even to my ears, my voice sounds small and defeated. 

“No, I- I wrote that post after my brother came out. I was just confused and wanted to know what he was feeling like, I’m sorry…” he takes a step toward me and I involuntarily take a step beck. 

He rocks back on his heels, wringing his hands together. 

I look out towards the empty carnival, the last booths shutting down. There’s no Blue coming to rescue me from this nightmare. There’s only the park attendant, swinging his keys, coming to tell us to get the fuck out of the park. 

“Simon?” he says and he’s openly sobbing now. This, more than anything, makes me see red. What the fuck does he have to cry about?

“Just stay the fuck away from me.” I can’t even look at him. 

When I get home, my pocket plings. A Google alert. It’s kind of amazing how only less than an hour ago, it would have made my heart beat fast with anticipation. 

It’s from Blue. 

Martin. 

The subject line says, “I’m so sorry!”

I type in a reply without even reading the email. I can’t handle another confirmation that Blue was nothing but a lie. 

“You already know too much about me that you could blackmail me for the rest of my life. But whatever, I don’t care. I don’t think you could do anything worse than what you already did today. If you have any heart at all, just leave me alone.”

I send the email and disable the account altogether. If only I could delete the memories with it as well. 

The rest of the school year passes by in a blur, the only thing keeping me going through the sludge of my senior year is the thought of graduation day, when I’ll be done with this freaking shitty high school existence already. 

The day finally does come, and I graduate despite abysmal grades the final quarter of the year. It’s only standing at the stage that it all becomes bittersweet. 

After the graduation ceremony, my parents insist on me taking pictures with everyone in my classes. I wave goodbye to Taylor freaking Metternich and we elbow our way through the crowd. My mom keeps looking around for faces not in her camera album yet.

“How about this young man?” my dad suddenly shouts triumphantly. He places a hand on the guy’s shoulder. The “young man” in question turns around. 

I blink when I recognize him, Cute Bram Greenfeld. Holding a few months old baby. I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any cuter. 

I feel myself smiling shyly, “Would you mind taking a picture with me?” I shrug in my dad’s direction. “Parents’ protocol.”

Bram looks relieved. 

Sometime after the whole school found out I was gay, and all because of the worst reason -person- ever, Bram and Garrett stopped hanging out at our table at lunch. 

Nick wanted to kick their asses, but I just told him to ignore it. They didn’t owe me anything, and at least it wasn’t like they were actively pushing me around like the guys from the football team. 

And, I didn’t have it in me to be mad at Bram. There’s been something sad and tired around his eyes lately that I want to soothe with my thumbs. 

“Sure, my parents would want a picture, too,” he says softly. The way he looks into my eyes makes my knees a little weak. Never believed in that expression before, but I can now confirm that knees can turn into jelly looking into Bram’s warm, brown eyes. 

Bram’s parents are already standing behind us with their camera poised to take pictures. His mom is a taller black woman wearing bright pink lipstick around a broad smile.

“Say cheese,” she says, and Bram - freaking hell - actually does. 

His dad, a lean white guy with a necktie that looks like a rainbow vomited on it, steps forward and grabs the baby from Bram. “One more without the baby,” he says, smiling. 

“Boo!” the baby protests, reaching for Bram. 

I put my arm around him and smile for the camera. He stiffens when I do so, and I stop myself from snapping at him, “Gay is not contagious, you know!”

“One last day,” I think to myself, but my mood has already turned sour. 

After several forced pictures, our parents start making small talk. My mom asks to carry the baby. 

Bram puts his hand on my elbow. 

“I’m so sorry, Simon,” he says, slowly.

“No worries, I’m used to it by now.”

He shakes his head and he looks so sad for a moment, that somehow I feel like I was the one in the wrong. “I’m sorry. I wish- I know it must have really sucked for you, but I just wanted to apologize for…”

He pauses and I’m just really tired of hearing about people knowing about how much I suffer. 

“I really didn’t see your email. And, I was in Savannah all week for the birth. I’m so sorry, Simon.”

He looks like he wants to say more and I’m about to ask him to explain what the hell he means slowly and with visuals, because my brain has just stopped running at full capacity, when his dad says, “Ready, Bram?” 

Bram looks at his dad, at me, and back again, and I’m still trying to get my brain to function but he’s already saying, “I know I’m going to sound so cheesy right now, but hell, it’s graduation. Just know that I’m still rooting for you. Bonne chance, Simon.” 

He leaves with a shaky smile and I can’t seem to calm my heart. My knees are jelly for a completely different reason now. 

All throughout the ride home, my parents talk to me, but all I register are muffled sounds from underwater. I try to connect all the dots, but the picture is murky yet right before my eyes...

It’s only later when I check the yearbook that I can justify the ugly churn in my stomach:

_Bram Louis Greenfeld_  
Birthday: January 18  
Sign: Capricorn  
Quote: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” - Oscar Wilde 


End file.
